


Big Siblings, Big Family

by Intomyfireyoushallfall (scorpiontales)



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Families of Choice, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:19:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Intomyfireyoushallfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey is sick with a virus that infects mutants. Solution? Team (mostly) human to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Siblings, Big Family

If there was a bright side to this whole mess, Mikey thought, at least he was the only one who got sick.

            It wasn’t the best consolation prize, not by a long shot. His throat hurt, he had a fever, and he constantly fluctuated between being too hot and too cold. He was forced to be quarantined in his own bedroom. He couldn’t even keep down a slice of pizza. 

            But none of his brothers were sick. He was the only one who had gotten saddled with this strain of the mutant specific flu. And for that, Mikey would take what he could get.

            “Mikey,” there was a knock on the door and April walked in, a glass of green looking water in her hands. Her hair was down, the hair tie she usually used wrapped tightly around her wrist. After she’d started spending more and more time at the lair, she’d stopped caring about her appearance in front of the boys. It was a common sight to see her relaxing on the sofa in sweat pants and a simple t-shirt. She placed the glass on Mikey’s bedside table and pulled up a chair.

            “How are you feeling?” She asked as she sat down.

            “Sick.” He sat up, using the pillow behind him to keep him upright. Ever since he’d gotten ill, the slightest of movements seemed to take all of his energy, keeping him constantly exhausted.  It was a feeling Mikey wasn’t used to. It was a feeling he never wanted to get used to. “How is everyone?”

            “They’re pretty worried.” Mikey wasn’t surprised. His brother’s always fussed over him when he was sick, becoming different variations of mother hens. A _flock of worrywarts_ , as he liked to call them. They all had different worrying styles (stern, mothering and obsessive, respectively) but the one thing they all had in common was refusing to let Mikey out of their sights. Not being able to see him was probably driving them all nuts.

            And really, wasn’t that the worst part of this bug? Not being able to see his brothers? According to his scientist older brother, the flu Baxter had created would infect any mutant that got within a foot of each other. Like germ targeting missiles (which to Mikey’s fever addled brain, actually sounded pretty cool). Donnie, when he first found out that Baxter was dabbling in biological warfare had almost been impressed.  Now that Baxter was using it to target their family, he was mostly just pissed. At least, that was what Mikey assumed giving all the angry yelling he’d picked up from outside his door in the last hour. He didn’t even know that Donnie knew how to swear in Spanish.

            Either way, all mutants in the Hamato household were forbidden from seeing Mikey until he shook it off. Which blew, because Mikey would kill for one of Raph’s terrible stories right about now.

            “You sure you should be in here, April?” He asked, lifting his head. April was a mutant too, even if she didn’t look like it. April didn’t reply right away, reaching into her back pocket to pull out a thermometer. She barely gave Mikey any warning before she shoved it into his mouth. Leo must have warned her how much he hated the things.

            “I’m fine. Donnie checked five times that it can’t get me before he let me step in here.” Mikey could picture that easily enough, his brother flailing his arms about as he talked about “risks” in techno babble. The thought was enough to make him smile.  April pulled the thermometer out of his mouth and checked it. A small frown appeared on her face, but she got rid of it quickly, her expression morphing into a slight smile. Her acting was improving. Maybe she’d be able to sneak one by Splinter one of these days. “Looks like you get to add to your roster of nurses.”

            His roster of nurses consisted of all those who weren’t mutants, thus Casey, Karai and April. All of them would be safe from the virus. Mikey was pretty thankful for that, he didn’t want anyone taking care of him if it meant they would get sick too. One sick turtle was enough. That being said, being thankful didn’t mean he wasn’t above teasing.

            Mikey, using what little energy he had, let out a large groan and threw his arm over his eyes.

            “I’m doomed. Doomed!”

            He felt April shove him. A playful kind of shove that reminded him of Raph and Don. Of family. “Don’t be a drama queen. You’re going to be fine.” She said the last sentence with a more serious tone. It sounded almost like a command. She reached for Mikey’s hand and dragged his arm back down to his chest. With her other free hand, she grabbed the glass of water that she brought in and held it up to his mouth. “Now take a big sip. Doctors orders.”

            “Don isn’t a doctor. He doesn’t even have a license.” Mikey did as he was told anyway, taking one big sip. It tasted horrible, like sweet caramel mixed with hot sauce. Why couldn’t any of Donnie’s homemade medicines ever be grape flavored? He got the whole glass down in a minute. April took it away from his mouth and placed it back on the dresser.

            “I got to get your temperature back to Donnie.” Mikey slumped in his bed. More alone time. Great. The disappointment must have been evident on his face because she spoke up once more. “After that, how about I come back? You can braid my hair.”

            That caught his attention. He loved braiding, loved it ever since he picked it up by playing with the scraps of thread that Raph didn’t use for knitting. He’d never had the chance to practice on actual human hair before. “Really? You swear?”

            “On your shell.” April leaned down to press a kiss to Mikey’s forehead. It felt nice. “I’ll be right back.” She took the glass and left the room, being careful to keep the door from slamming behind her. Mikey grabbed one of his fluffier blankets and began to braid the fringe.

            “Thanks sis,” he said to himself as he began to weave the strands together. When April came back, he’d manage to braid her hair up into a magnificent up-do before falling asleep.

            Somewhere, in the depths of fever dreams, he swore he heard her say “thanks little brother.”

***

            The next time he woke up, he woke up to arguing.

            It took awhile to register. Everything seemed to be far away and blurry. Maybe because his head hurt so much. Sounds echoed in his ears, causing them to ache. The small amount of light in the room seemed to burn his eyes. His whole body seemed to be on fire. All sensations were those of pain.

            He kept listening to the conversation anyway. Because the argument he was hearing? It was important. He could tell by the tone. This was something serious.

            “Raph, buddy, I can’t let you go in there.” Mikey knew that voice. It took him a little while to place give his feverish brain, but the mental image of face paint and a bandana eventually helped him put a name to the voice. Casey.

            “Yes, you can. And you will.” That was Raph alright. He was using his scary voice, the one he only broke out when someone was seriously in trouble or hurt. Mikey could only remember around three occasions when he’d heard Raph use it before. Why he’d ever aim it at his best friend was a mystery.

            “No. I won’t.” And there went Casey’s scary voice. Mikey thought it could use some work. Maybe more of a growl. He’d have to tell him that later. When everything stopped hurting so much. “Look man, you go in there, you’re going to get sick. Real sick. And then were going to have two sick turtles on our hands.”

            Two sick turtles? Who was the other one? Mikey couldn’t remember any of his brothers being sick. He couldn’t remember much of anything. He tried to sit up, if one of his brothers was sick he had to help, but a hand held him down, firm but gentle.

            “Shh,” he heard Karai whisper above him. He didn’t remember Karai entering his room. When did that happen? “Stay still.” 

            Maybe it was the tone that reminded him of Master Splinter, or maybe it was the fact that Karai sounded _really_ concerned but Mikey did as he was told. He heard the sounds of splashing water, and that noise was enough to distract him from the arguing outside. Soon enough a cool washcloth was placed on his forehead and the pain that seemed to be drilling through his skull receded a little.

            “What’s going on?” He asked. His throat hurt something fierce but he didn’t let it stop him. He could hear Karai walk through his bedroom but instead of hearing the click of her boots against the floor, he heard simple footfalls. She was barefoot. She hated being barefoot.

            “You’re sick. Bishop, remember?”

            He didn’t. Thinking seemed to be painful at the moment. But he figured it was the answer Karai wanted so he nodded his head. The washcloth slipped down his face from the gesture. The light hurt his eyes but he took in the images in front of him anyway. For a brief second he could see the ceiling of his room, the dotted cement expanse that he fallen asleep staring at when he was a kid. He used to picture the dots in the surface as the stars in the night sky. After he’d gotten the chance to see the real thing, it seemed a silly comparison.

            “Hello,” Karai said appearing in his line of vision for one second before she pulled the washcloth back over his eyes. There was a teasing expression on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’ll make your headache worse.”

            “You know about my headache?”

            There was a moment of silence. Then, an admission. “You were complaining about it earlier.”

            Mikey didn’t remember that either. He supposed that should concern him but he was too tired to care. Instead he focused back on the argument outside, which was rising in pitch and intensity.

            “I swear to God Jones,” That was Raph again, his voice just as low and dangerous as it was previously. If he kept it up, he might explode. He sounded closer now, like he was right outside the door. “If you don’t let me see my little brother I’ll-”

            “He’s my little brother too!”

            And Mikey thought Raph was being loud. Casey’s yell must have echoed at least a mile through the sewers given how it was echoing in his ears. He heard a noise that sounded like a sob before Casey spoke again.

            “He’s my little brother too, okay? I get it. I really get it. Mikey is in there and he’s real sick, and you just want to make it all better. You’d do anything to make it better. And so would I. But _Raphie_ ,” Casey’s voice broke on his brother’s rarely used nickname. “If I let you in there? If you get sick? Mikey would never forgive me. I can’t take that. _I can’t let you get hurt too._ ”

            Casey sounded wrecked. Really wrecked. Mikey wanted to get out of bed and burst out there right now, to wrap his arms around both of his older brothers (blood and bond) and make sure that they never sounded like that again. But it hurt too much to move. It hurt too much to even think about it.

            “Shhh,” he felt a sudden pressure on his neck and the world began to grow dark. He struggled against the closing darkness.

            “No….gotta help.” His voice was no more than a rasp.

            “If you get some rest, you’ll be helping.” And on that note, Mikey fell back into his dreams once more.

***

            Mikey didn’t wake up for awhile after that. His world was that of stomach pains, of intense tiredness, of a cough that wouldn’t quit. Scrambling to the surface of consciousness seemed impossible, almost foolhardy. Why embrace more pain?

            So instead he lingered in his dreams. Stayed far away from the world around him. Ignored his surrounding entirely. Except for one thing.

            It was a lullaby, sung soft and slow. One of the Japanese melodies that Splinter used to sing to them when they were small. He recognized the notes, the sway of the beat, the lyrics that he’d worked hard to memorize. But he didn’t recognize the voice. Because a voice that feminine couldn’t be that of Master Splinter.

            It was nice though all the same. The song. The hand on his forehead. It was almost enough to make him want to wake up.

            Almost.

***

 

           Mikey would end up waking up a few hours later, bone tired but fever free. He wouldn’t waste much time to wake up his nurses, all who were passed out on the floor of his bedroom, to tell them the good news, to get the all clear to see the rest of his family. But looking upon the sleeping forms of Casey, Karai and April, Mikey couldn’t help but watch them for a few moments.

            He always thought he was lucky to have three brothers. He’d been wrong. He had five. And two wonderful sisters.

            He wouldn’t trade them for anything.

           

 

 


End file.
